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Monday, June 17, 2013

V8:Chapter Two-Frozen Certainty

Volume Eight

Chapter Two

Frozen Certainty

In which Dodger learns how to make the
best with what you have

Most
of the crew gathered in the meeting cab to hear what the native had to say,
save for Feng, who chose to remain in the guest quarters at Sarah’s side. No
one was sure how much longer the young girl would remain unconscious, and no
one wanted her to awaken alone. Dodger ducked his head into the guest room to
check on the pair before joining the others.

“How
is she?” he asked.

Feng
looked up from his book. “Same, same. She doesn’t seem to be suffering, just catatonic.
Poor thing.”

“I’ve
been thinking about that.” Dodger nodded to the sleeping young girl. “Do you
think she’s just like Boon?”

The
mystic glanced over the edge of his spectacles, to Sarah, then back to Dodger.
He blinked sleepily. “You know, I hadn’t thought of that. Perhaps she is.”

“Is
there any way to tell?”

“Is
there some magic spell, you mean?”

“Well
…” Dodger worried the brim of his hat, feeling all sorts of silly and nervous
for asking such a thing.

“I
don’t think I have the energy to perform the same one as I did for Boon, but I
think I know of another way.”

“Can
you manage it?”

“I
could certainly try.”

Feng
yawned softly into the back of his hand, and it was then that Dodger noticed
how exhausted the Celestial appeared. Half-moons of darkness bordered the man’s
eyes, which lacked their usual sparkle. He blinked again, in a slow manner, as
if savoring the moments for which his eyes closed, brief as they were.

“How
are you holding up?” Dodger asked.

“Me?”
Feng asked. “I’m swell.”

“You
sure?”

“Never
better.” Feng winked.

Dodger
nodded, but he knew a lie when he heard one. “All right, then. You let me know
if you need anything. Or if she wakes up. You hear?”

“Aye,
aye, cap’n.” With a wide grin, Feng gave Dodger a little salute.

Dodger
pushed the thought of Feng’s sudden exhaustion to the back of his mind. He
would have to deal with it later. There was something larger looming on the
horizon. A nasty little something named Canis Rex.

Dodger
slipped into the meeting cab just as the doc asked, “Would you hold still?”

The
doc stood over the not-dead man, trying his best to stitch the hole in Ched’s
cheek.

The
doc exhaled in frustration. “Fine.” He dropped the sutures on his desk and
passed a key ring to the driver. As Ched stood, towering over his boss man, the
doc poked his finger at the driver’s bony chest. “One. Do you hear me? One
bottle. If I even suspect you so much as looked at a second bottle, I will let
you dry out.”

“Yesh,
shir,” Ched said. He snapped up the keys and was out of the door before the doc
could holler an additional reminder to take only one bottle.

Mesmerized
by the proceedings, Jones leaned over to Dodger and asked, “Is it always like
this?”

“Mostly,”
Dodger said. He settled onto the couch beside Lelanea.

“I
would like to apologize again,” the doc said, as he turned his attention to the
native.

“No
need to, sir,” Jones said.

“I
had no intention of ruining all of your hard work on those poor crops. I would
never deliberately-”

“We
know, sir,” Jones said. “It was just a simple mistake. In the end, we learned
to make it work for us instead of against us. That’s all that’s matters now.”

“But
how your tribe could possibly profit from the Internal Centigrade Extractor is
beyond me.”

“Oh,
it’s more than just profiting. Your ICE machine has all but saved us. We were
struggling on that dry patch of earth, certain that most of us would starve,
but you came along and rescued my people. We are eternally indebted to you.”

Rather
than bask in the praise, the doc huffed an angry little huff. “Nonsense.”

Jones
lost his grin in a cloud of confusion. “Nonsense?”

“Rescue
you? I did nothing of the sort.”

“Yes
sir, you-”

“No.
No. No. I won’t hear of it. I didn’t save anyone. I made a grievous
miscalculation in communication that you and yours were right to get upset
about. If anyone rescued your people, it was you.”

Jones
started. “Me?”

“Not
you specifically. You in the broad respect. Vous
as opposed to tu, as the French would
say.” The doc touched his chin in thought. “Or is that tu as opposed to vous? I
always get those two mixed up. Why is French such a dastardly difficult
language? It shouldn’t be. I mean, if the French can speak it, then it must not
be too hard.”

“Tu ish shingular and pershonal,” Ched
said from the doorway, clutching a bottle of amber liquid to his chest. “Vous ish proper and shometimesh plural.”

The
doc shot his driver a suspicious look. “Case in point.”

“What?”
Ched asked.

“Since
when do you speak French?” Boon asked.

Rather
than answer, Ched’s skeletal grin widened as he returned to his seat. He took a
few swigs from his bottle, somehow managing to get it all down without spilling
a drop from his open wound.

And
Dodger had to admit, the hole did seem smaller already.

The
professor crossed his arms and stared at the silent not-dead man. “French
indeed. I think we are overdue for a long discussion. But first back to … wait
… where was I?”

“You
were explaining that the tribe rescued themselves,” Lelanea said.

“Quite
right,” the doc agreed. “It takes ingenuity to make a mistake work in your
favor. Ingenuity and genius. I had nothing to do with that.”

“Thank
you for your modesty,” Jones said, “but we do owe you some small debt. I should
start by apologizing for the way my people treated you. It isn’t our habit to
rise so quickly to anger. Especially over such an obvious misunderstanding.”

“To
be fair, it was a reasonable reaction, considering everything your tribe has
been through.”

“Shpeakin’
of tribesh,” Ched said. “What’sh with the breeshe on the neck?”

“Excuse
me?” Jones asked.

“The
short back and shidesh?”

Jones
shook his head, unsure what the driver was getting at.

“I
think he means your hair,” Dodger said.

“Chester,” the doc scolded.
“Don’t be so rude.”

“No,
I don’t mind,” Jones said. He ran a hand over his short locks. “I had my hair
cut when I found God.”

“Where
whash He hidin’?” Ched asked. “A barber shop?”

“Chester!” the doc
snapped.

Jones
laughed, free and easy. “Don’t worry, Professor. I am used to much worse
comments from my own family. I should explain; though I was raised on the
reservation, I have been in the service of Reverend Young for several years.”

“Brigham
Young?” Dodger asked. “The Mormon leader?”

“Yes,
sir.”

“Is
that where you learned English?” Lelanea asked.

“Correct
again,” Jones said.

“Then
what are you doin’ back here?” Ched asked.

“Chester
Hedediah McMullen,” the doc scolded. “I swear sometimes I think you were raised
by apes. Excrement-flinging, teeth-baring, odoriferous apes!” The doc turned a
look of pity on the native. “I must apologize for my driver’s rudeness. Sometimes
his brain goes a bit soft around the edges.”

“It
really is fine,” Jones said. “My people needed me, so I came home.”

“A
good an answer as any,” the doc said.

Ched
let out a healthy belch, spreading the smell of death and rotgut across the
cab. “Excush me.”

“There
is no excuse for you,” the doc said. “Now, Jones, explain again how you make a
profit from the ICE?”

“We use it in the way you intended, sir,” Jones
said.

The
doc’s eyes went wide. “You’re joking.”

“No,
sir.”

“You
freeze your crops?”

“Yes.
It’s just peas right now, but with help, we are expanding our fields to include
a variety of vegetables.”

“Why
would folksh want frozen peash?” Ched asked.

Jones
explained, “Freezing our vegetables allows us to ship them much farther away
than we normally could. They arrive nearly thawed and almost as fresh as the
day we picked them.

“How
clever,” the doc said.

“Thank
you, sir. We also formed a business relationship with the local farmers. They
bring us their crops to freeze for shipping. Corn, beans, you name it, we can
freeze it.”

“Amazing,”
Lelanea said.

“That
it is. It’s still in its infancy, but it’s proving to be a profitable business.
There is already a higher demand than we can meet.”

“That’s
incredible,” Dodger said.

“Thank
you,” Jones said. “I would like to take credit for it, but it wasn’t my idea. I
came along later to help negotiate contracts.”

“Another
clever use of resources,” Lelanea said.

“Yes,”
the doc said. “Your grasp of English is exceptional. I daresay that without
your translations, things may have fared very differently.”

“Your
people are lucky to have you,” Dodger said.

“Learning
English was the reason I was sent to study under Young,” Jones said. “Finding
solace in the Lord along the way was a blessing I didn’t expect.”

The
doc clapped. “I am so pleased by your tribe’s success. And if there is anything
else I can do to help out, you have only to ask.”

“Actually,
sir,” Jones said. “We do need your help again. That is the reason I came back
with Mr. Ched and Mr. Dodger. To request a meeting. Our chieftain would like to
speak with you, sir. In person.”

All
at once, the doc became flustered, shuffling papers across his desk as he
huffed and puffed. “Well, I, that is to say, I’m not sure if I can. There is so
much to do here.”

“My
uncle doesn’t like to make personal appearances anymore,” Lelanea said. She
lowered her voice to add, in a soft whisper, “He’s developed a bit of a shy
side.”

“Having
your life threatened on occashion will do that to a man,” Ched said.

“Please,
sir,” Jones begged. “I promise we will treat you better this time. I wouldn’t
ask, but we are at our wits’ end. Your arrival here was no coincidence, for you
are the only man clever enough to help us.”

“What
is this about?” Dodger asked.

“I
… I … truthfully, I don’t know where to start. I’m not sure you will believe
what I have to say.”

Ched
gave a soft snort of humor. Dodger couldn’t help but grin. The kid had no idea.